Thanksgiving Thoreau style
by RevelationToBehold68
Summary: The Poets find themselves snowed in and are forced to spend their Thanksgiving Holidays at good ol' "Helton". Keating teaches them a vaulable lesson about what it means to be thankful with many laughs along the way. For my own version of "NaNoWiMo."
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: Ok, so here's the whole shebang. November is NaNoWiMo or "National Novel Writing Month" which is when people who are either really fast at typing or have a lot of time on their hands...or both, write an entire novel in ONE MONTH! Crazy but also very boss. Anyway, if you're a follower of any of my stories, which I doubt you are because I have very few, you see, you have probably noticed that I update very, very, VERY rarely. In retrospect, I guess this is why I have very few followers. Hhhmmm... Anyway, I want to take NaNoRiMo and tweak it to "NaFanFicMo" Or "National FanFiction Month" where I will write A FULL FIC IN ONE MONTH! That' write update EVERY WEEK ON THIS STORY! I'll do it and if I don't I'll eat a fat sandwich and a blenderized Happy Meal just like John Green had to when he didn't update his Vlogs. I swear. **

**Anyway, that's what gonna happen and OF COURSE I brought my love for the holidays and Dead Poets together! So I'm writing a fic about the Dead Poets and how they do Thanksgiving. I'm also going to do one for Christmas! But this one first.**

**So PLEASE Rate and Review! It'll be the only way for me to finish! **

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The Dead Poets:

Thanksgiving Celebration

Chapter One

As winter settled over the tiny town of Welton, the rolling golden hills, typical of the Vermont countryside in autumn began to fade and transform into something resembling that of arctic tundra. Frigid winds blew in sharp gusts and rattled the frosted windowpanes of Welton Academy. The students attending the all-boys boarding school had not expected the harsh side-effects winter to spring upon them so early, nor had they expected the furnace to be on the fritz every other day giving many of the students the inevitable opportunity to become pyro-masters, all being learning how to build a fire in as many fire places they could get their hands on just to make the frigid classrooms to a bearable chilly.

Many had become quite skilled in the art of building a fire with the exception of Knox Overstreet, who, upon lighting a match became so frightened by the sudden spark of the flame that he hurled the match across the room, singeing the seat of Richard Cameron's trousers—much to the amusement of the rest of the Poets excluding the aforementioned.

Either way, in sight of the unfavorable conditions along with the inevitable droning monotony that the weeks at "Hellton" brought, the students were quite relived to be leaving it all for a week to join their families for the welcome Thanksgiving break.

It was the day before break and the common room was significantly less crowded that it usually was. This was due to the fact that many of the students had been released early, as their families had great influence on the school and could easily convince Headmaster Nolan to do so. Only a handful of students were left in the school the day before break—including the seven members of the Dead Poets Society.

Neil Perry, Todd Anderson, Charlie Dalton, Knox Overstreet, Steven Meeks, Gerard Pitts and Richard Cameron were all sprawled out in various spots in the common room. The wind rattled as harshly as ever and one could catch a glimpse of a few stray flurries whooshing by in the perpetual darkness. While the conditions outside the common room were rather unfavorable, inside was a rather cozy and relaxed atmosphere. A crackling fire washed the room in a warm glow, casting flickering shadows on its seven occupants. Meeks and Pitts were hunkered over a bundle of wires and gears, two winkled cords leading to a pair of chunky headphones resting on either boy's head.

Meeks pushed his horned rimmed glasses a little higher on his freckly nose, his thick red curls mashed onto his forehead from the headphones. He muttered something under his breath before pocketing the bundle with the screwdriver he was holding. Pitts, across from him, was a little less productive, not paying much attention to the odd little machine before him and more by the tiny wrench he had unearthed from Meeks's cluttered toolbox.

Charlie was sprawled out on the worn-out plaid couch, flipping through an old issue of _Better Homes and Gardens_. His generous stack of _Playboy_'s had been swiped earlier that week when he unwisely allowed an underclassmen into his room to clean it. Though the kid had failed wiped it clean of any grime, he had no trouble wiping it clean of anything Charlie needed to sustain himself for life (i.e. Smokes, _Playboy_'s, etc, etc) So until the new issue came out, Charlie was forced to scan housewife magazines (Pitt's had a surprising large collection and had generous lent them to his pal) for anything to, er, _amuse _himself. Sadly for him, Charlie was finding the housewives a little to underexposed for his taste, despite what Pitt's had told him about them being "classy babes". "And they can _cook_ too," he had informed Charlie proudly.

Knox was lying by the hearth on his stomach trying his hand at drawing. He wanted to make a portrait of all the Dead Poets to hang in the cave. He was doing quite well too, until a certain girl came to mind, and suddenly Neil had grown brown hair and a wicked set of knockers. All in all, the picture wasn't coming along as planned.

The real Neil, whose chest was appropriately flat and hair still brown and fashioned into a sensible, yet very unoriginal crew-cut, had his long legs dangling over the arm of a rather beat-up armchair, immersed in _Crime and Punishment_—the Russian novel wasn't exactly as inspiring as _Leaves of Grass_ might be but it was just as thought-provoking. Still, he couldn't' help but keep his eyes wandering over to Todd, who was sitting off to the side in the corner, notebook tucked in his lap, pencil poised on the paper, though still, waiting to be thrust into motion. By the dazed look on Todd's face though, it could be safely assumed that this might not happen anytime soon. After a few more moments, Neil finally called his friend on it.

"Hey, Todd," Neil said, breaking the silence. The sudden noise, caught the attention of nearly everyone in the room, except the person it was intended for.

"Hey, Todd," Neil repeated, a little louder.

Hearing this time, Todd looked up, startled, "W-what?"

"You ok?" Neil asked sitting up in his chair slightly, "You seem a little….distracted."

Todd blushed a little at being called out, "Oh, uh no…I-I'm fine."

"Neil we're all distracted," Charlie, pointed out, happy to find an excuse to close the _Women's Day _he'd been rifling through. "Holidays tomorrow, we finally get to leave this hellhole."

"Charlie!" Cameron exclaimed, snapping out of the trance he had been in while pouring over Geometry. "Welton is a fine Academy! How dare you disgrace it by calling it derogatory names."

Charlie wheeled around at the snot-nosed ginge, "Oh, I'm sorry Dickums, when exactly did I ask for your input?"

"You didn't," Cameron sniffed, drawing himself up importantly in his seat. "But I'm never afraid to offer my opinion when it's needed."

"We noticed," Charlie deadpanned. "Anyway, why the hell are you doing homework. Who does _homework_ the day before break?" Charlie demanded, looking at the open Geometry textbook in horror.

"Well unlike some people, I actually respect the fact that my parents pay for my tuition to attend this fine school and I want to give them the idea that they're getting their money's worth," Cameron informed Charlie snottily.

"Give it a rest Cameron," Neil sighed. "If you didn't notice there aren't any teachers boots around to lick."

Cameron opened his mouth to protest but Neil had already turned away from him and back to Todd. "You sure you're ok?" Neil asked, still concerned.

"Yeah—yeah, I'm fine," Todd insisted, though rather weakly.

"Ok…" Neil hesitated, wisely not entirely convinced. "You just seem kind of down and, I mean, it's the holidays tomorrow."

"I know," Todd said quietly. "I'm excited…"

"You sure sound it," Charlie snorted doubtfully. "Come on cheer up Todders!" Charlie said springing up from the couch. "One week, no classes, no homework and a whole day of nothing but stuffing your face!" Charlie paused thoughtfully, "Leave it to America to have the one holiday with nothing you do but eat."

"Some great country we are," Cameron grumbled.

"Whoa man, whoa," Charlie snapped. "This is America you're talking about. Land of the brave, home of the something…"

"You're quite the patriot," Meeks snorted from his post at the table. "But frankly, Charlie, Thanksgiving is a waste."

"A day of nothing but eating and you all that a waste?" Charlie demanded.

"I don't mind eating," Meeks replied in an even yet maddeningly superior tone. "I'm just saying, it's based on something that never even happened. We have this false tale declaring that the Pilgrims and the Indians helped each other grow corn to make peace, when in actually it was just some celebration of the Harvest where upon a few Native Americans attended—and then the Pilgrims still found it justifiable to slaughter them in thousands…" Meeks shook his head is disgust before a signal suddenly zapped from the transmitter and he spun around to fiddle with it, leaving Charlie to just scowl at him.

Neil looked over at Knox who was gaping at Meeks in open-mouthed horror.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked.

"Do you mean to tell me that the Pilgrims and the Indians weren't friends at all and that there was no big feast?" Knox demanded, staring imploringly at Knox.

"Precisely," Meeks said, not looking up from his work.

Knox just started at the curly-haired boy and wildly wondered if Santa Clause was a sham as well. He wanted to ask but he didn't want to know the answer. He couldn't handle that much heartbreak in one night.

Neil stared at Knox calculatingly for a moment and then simply shook his head. "Knox, don't kill yourself about this."

"Oh, like you're one to talk," Knox snapped.

"What are you talking about?" Neil asked thoroughly confused.

Knox paused for a second, "Nothing," he said quickly, turning back down to his picture.

"I always wanted to cook a Thanksgiving dinner," Pitt's said, randomly jumping into the conversation. "There's a great stuffing recipe in the November issue of _Women's Day_," he said shooting a significant glance to Charlie who pointedly ignored him.

"I don't mind Thanksgiving," Neil shrugged. "My Dad always brings up the Doctor thing to my family but the turkey numbs my senses so it makes it more bearable."

"You got that right," Charlie agreed.

Neil turned to Todd, as he noticed his friend hadn't joined in. "What about you, Todd?"

Todd flushed again and shrugged, " I—I really…I…"

Thankfully, for the squirming boy, Todd was interrupted from another loud zap from the transmitter on the table followed by a gurgle of static and then a man talking.

"Eureaka!" Meeks shouted, frantically fiddling with the knob. "We have signal! Better than that we have a station!"

The Poets fell quiet as a mans clear and informative voice cut through the static of the radio and projected around the room,

"_An for those of you in the Welton area, it seems that Jack Frost has come early this year—"_

"Jack Frost really?" Charlie snorted but was hushed quickly by the rest.

"—_a blizzard is on the way and is expected overnight, hitting you hard with at least eight to ten inches_—" The radio crackled again and the signal was lost.

"Blizzard? Blizzard?" Cameron raged, glaring furiously at the transmitter as though the little bundle of wires was the cause of the incident, not merely the messenger. "Who has blizzards in _November_?" Cameron demanded.

"Uh, Cameron, it's Vermont," Neil pointed out, rather wisely.

"Yeah, really," Knox chimed in, sitting up a little from his spot on the hearth. "Haven't you ever seen _White Christmas_?"

"No," Cameron snapped. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Knox snorted out of disbelief, "What does that have to do with anything, he asks," he mused. "The movie took place in Vermont because the main characters wanted to go where snow was. Idiot," Knox shook his head wondering what the world was becoming these days.

"Knox, no one cares about your stupid movie," Cameron retorted. "As if that makes any sense and besides the movie is called _White _Christmas not _White _Thanksgiving!"

"Ok, you two need to calm down," Neil stepped in as Knox looked close to ramming a fire poker up Cameron's ass—not that it wouldn't have been entirely unwelcome, but Neil didn't have the energy to clean up the mess it would make (because everyone knew he'd be the only one responsible enough to clean up the blood from the carpet).

"First of all, Knox the fact that you're indulging in Christmas musicals featuring Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye is faintly disturbing and also, Cameron, calm down. If there were a big storm on the way, we would have known by now. Why would the first time we hear about it be ten-thirty at night? So just relax, you'll be at home tomorrow with mummy and daddy, trust me."

"If I were Cameron's mummy and daddy I'd be praying for snow," Charlie muttered, only silenced by a swift glare from Neil.

" I love snow," Pitt's remarked randomly.

"Getting caught in a snowstorm all alone with Miss. October…." Charlie mused thoughtfully, "Now there's a thought."

"On that note, I'm going to bed," Meeks said, pulling off his headphones and Pitt's before carefully tucking the transmitter back into it's case.

"I'm going to bed too," Knox said, standing up and starching. "Early to bed early to rise…uh…wait I got this…"

"Come one Knoxie," Charlie said, ushering the still-pondering Knox out of the room. "Sleep on it."

Neil went over and poked out the fire as everyone shuffled out of the room. He turned to leave just as Todd was scuttling out.

"Hey, Todd," Neil said, catching him. "I'm sure you're annoyed by this by now but you were really quiet tonight…I mean quieter than usual which is saying a lot…considering."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Todd, said, once again as unconvincing as ever. He knew this, of course and didn't need to doubtful look on Neil's face to tell him. "Really, Neil, I'm fine," he tried to insist.

Neil scanned his friends face for another moment before letting out a small sigh and deciding to drop the subject. Maybe he needed to simply relaxing and maybe lessen on the overbearing concern he had for Todd. He was beginning to act like Cameron's mother and if that wasn't a reason, Neil didn't know what was. No, Neil decided that if something was bothering Todd he'd tell him in due time.

"Ok, sure," Neil smiled then shivered. "Jesus, I'm just looking to get out of here to get into a warm house."

"Yeah," Todd agreed, though only half-heartedly—something Neil noted and then forced himself to ignore. "You think it'll snow?" Todd asked, looking up at his friend.

"I doubt it," Neil said. "More cold, as if I could be thankful about that…"

Just then they passed Charlie and Cameron's room where they could hear the loud snippets of what soon became a very amusing conversation…

"No!"

"C'mon Charlie it's freezing!"

"Goddamn it NO! Get the hell back over to your bed!"

"It would be for warmth!"

"It's gay!"

"It's practical!"

"It's disgusting!"

"You did it with Meeks once!"

"DON'T BRING HIM INTO THIS! THERE IS NO CHANCE IN HELL I AM SLEEPING IN THE SAME BED AS YOU! I DON'T CARE HOW FUCKING COLD I GET! NO. FUCKING. CHANCE!"

"But then again," Neil said thoughtfully as Todd and he entered their dorm. "Maybe I could…"

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**Authors Note: I know, I know. The characters aren't "full-on" but it's kind of a parody and Cloudy's Yawp-tastic fics kinda inspired some of the charaters personality traits (ie, Knox's clumsiness, Meeks and Charlie slash references). But, c'mon, these guys are HA-larious, either way. **

**Oh, Neil is reading _Crime and Punishment_ bcause I'm trying to read it as well. My AP Lit teacher said once I got past every Russian name looking the same it's great. And I trust her, she's like John Keating in female boss form. **

**Also Cameron is doing Geometry because Geometry sucks and so does Cameron. If that's not symbolism, I couldn't tell you what is.  
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**And we all know Knox would love White Christmas. Ever since he heard Bing Crosbey sing it with Danny Fucking Keye, he knew, as well as I, that life just could never be the same again. **

**~RevelationToBehold68  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: So, uh huh, uh huh, I know, I know. Look who updated. Yeah that's right. Ok, so this isn't long but I wanted to post this and I thought that even though it was a little short it could still stand as a chapter. I was writing it today in English when we were discussing King Lear…but no one likes King Lear because, as much as I love her, my English teacher does not do a mean John Wayne. So, anyway, this was the result. If all goes well this weekend, Chapter three should be up towards the end of this weekend. I'm not so sure how long this is going to be but if all goes well and people seem to be enjoying this then I'm thinking in the range of six to seven chapters.**

**Please R&R! **

** Oh, and I realized I didn't add a disclaimer: I don't own Dead Poets, but this is what would happen if I did. **

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Chapter Two

"NEIL! NEIL! JESUS CHRIST! GODAMMIT! NEIL! IT HAPPENED!"

Clad in a plaid flannel bathrobe, with his usually slick hair sticking straight up, Charlie burst into Neil and Todd's room and began to rant. While one might have expected Neil and Todd to wake with a start by the sudden disturbance, the reality was that neither bat an eyelash and continued to sleep. When one spends the majority of his days sleeping in a dorm with some of the biggest drama-queens in the New England area, he gets pretty use to loud noises and disturbances at all hours of the night…or morning.

Charlie scowled, as he was not one to take kindly to being ignored. So, he decided to resort to dramatic measures and yanked the covers off of Neil's sleeping form. The sudden chill that met Neil's thin body proved to be a lot more effective in waking him than Charlie cries of angst. Eyes squinted, Neil began fishing around for his blankets, but Charlie held them just far enough out of reach that Neil was forced to actually open his eyes and perform the difficult task of raising his torso to retrieve them.

Blinking rapidly, Neil saw the cause of his disturbance. "Charlie? What the hell are you doing? Give those back," he croaked, his voice raspy from the combination of sleep and the cold.

"NEIL! NEIL! JESUS CHRIST! GODAMMIT! NEIL! IT HAPPENED!" Charlie repeated, finding the exclamation simply too good to waste.

"Charlie! Keep it down! It's—" Neil checked his watch, "Six in the morning! What are you doing up at six in the morning? More importantly, what gave you the idea that _I_ want to be up at six in the morning?"

"Neil, Neil, man," Charlie, said, his voice urgent and excited. "You have to see this. It happened!"

"Whatever happened, it can wait," Neil grumped, snatching his covers back from Charlie and yanking them over his body again as he slammed down back onto his pillow. "Now go back to sleep and come in when I'm interested…which is in two more hours."

"Neil, I really think you're going to want to see this," Charlie insisted, sounding like a little sister plotting against her older brother.

"Can't it wait?" Neil asked, his voice muffled as it was smashed into his pillow.

"Oh, I don't think so," Charlie said.

Neil groaned into his pillow before propping his head on his elbow in order to face his friend, "Where is it?" he asked reluctantly.

"Just outside," Charlie said wickedly. "You can see it from your window."

Neil let out another groan before throwing his covers off and swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed. The school was so cold that he had slept in his flannel bathrobe over his striped pajamas.

"Ok, show me what's so important." Neil said, rubbing his eyes.

"Here it is," Charlie said before yanking down on the window shade before letting it fly up to reveal—

"Snow."

"Yup."

"Holy shit…snow…"

"Exactly."

"Look at it….it's like—"

"A blizzard?"

"Times ten."

Though rather stilted, Neil's observations were quite accurate to what stood before him. Outside of his window, snowflakes were whooshing down in a violent spiral, as though God was throwing angry fistfuls of snow toward the earth. Neil wrapped his sleeve around his fist and rubbed on the glass to clear the fog. Peering through the small window he'd created, Neil tried to get a better look of things. However, this was quite impossible as a blinding white blanket spread out over the courtyard in a dazzling sheet. Neil tried to make out the shape of the trees and the lake but couldn't identify Adam from Eve. Everything was simply an endless mass of white.

"Shit," Neil breathed, still staring out at the storm. "When did you discover this?" he asked, knowing full well that waking up well before 10:30 on a vacation day was well beyond the Charlie Dalton skill level.

"I was up at five on a mission to find the little shit who made off with my smokes," Charlie replied. "….Well, that and I had a case of the shits that forced me outta bed."

"Helton Hash?" Neil guessed.

"Helton Hash," Charlie affirmed.

Neil winced, knowing the severity of stomach problems the schools debatable delicacies did to a man. Still, he stole another look out the window, trying to squint through the tumbling snowflakes in attempt to make out how many inches had fallen.

"There's no way we're getting out of this place," Neil observed grudgingly.

"Oh, perfect. Thanksgiving with Nolan. Ain't that a gas?" Charlie said bitterly.

"Who knows, maybe Keating stuck around," Neil pointed out hopefully.

"Hey, now that would be something," Charlie said, brightening somewhat at this thought. He glanced around the room and caught sight of Todd, who, through all the commotion, was still sleeping soundly, his head tucked under the covers.

"He's a sound sleeper," Charlie observed, throwing a wicked glance Neil's way. "I'm sure that's fun when you want to, you know…."

Charlie trailed off making suggestive thrusting motions with his hips.

Neil frowned at this, "You're disgusting," he deadpanned. "Anyway, at least my roommate doesn't want to get into bed and snuggle with me."

Charlie scowled, "Hey, I did _not _let him in my bed!"

"Sure you didn't buddy," Neil said, ushering Charlie out of the room.

"I didn't!" Charlie insisted wildly.

"Charlie, you might want to get back to your room, Cameron is probably waiting for you. He can only keep the sheets warm for so long."

"Neil—!"

"Goodbye Charlie," Neil said calmly, shutting the door in Charlie's protesting face.

Neil turned around and glanced at Todd, still asleep, and then back at the snow. Maybe it was just the earliness of the hour, but Neil wasn't the least bit affected by the dilemma that faced him.

"Who knows?" he thought to himself, as he crawled back into bed. "Maybe this is a good thing…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: Uh, heeeyyyyy guys...ummm...so, yeah, I know. I haven't updated in awhile...I know I was supposed to update every week but a lot of stuff has been going in in the form of illness, goverment posters and pure laziness on my account. I also know this chapter is really short but get used to more updates cause I have to finish this by Thursday! I feel like it's pointless though cause no one is reading it and I kind of had to force myself just to write this little bit. So, I mean maybe I'm just realy down in the dumps or something but tell me if there is even a point to updating this. **

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Chapter Three

Though earlier that morning, Charlie and Neil had been optimistic despite the rather bitter predicament though snow had raised, the boys, along with the rest of the school weren't doing their best to echo these cheery tones. This could be easily be noted from the amid groans and gripes from the boys as they shuffled down the assembly hall where they had previously been called. It had been a rather chaotic morning once the rest of the school woke up and saw the horrors that faced them outside and what it meant. No one was looking at the snow very optimistically as all wanted to simply leave Welton for a few days even if it meant spending time with their families. Pitt's was the only one who was trying to look at the actual snow with a positive eye.

"Guys, this could be awesome!" he insisted as the Poets made their way to the assembly hall. "Snowball fights, snowball forts, snowmen, snow angles, sledding…the possibilities are endless!"

"Please Pitt's," snorted Cameron, whose disposition was, if possible, even more sour than it was on a regular basis. "Don't be ridicules! That's kids stuff and besides, I just want to go home, everyone does."

Pitt's looked a bit like an injured puppy at the remark and Charlie stepped in, "Cameron, you're just pissed because last time we had a snowball fight I clocked you unconscious—and that was after you ran away screaming like a little girl…"

"I did not!"

"Yeah, ok you—"

Charlie was about to do a wild reenactment of Cameron's supposed snowball fight etiquette but the sight that met the boys in the assembly hall cut him off. It was bare, barren, desolate and any other synonym that a Thesaurus could throw at him. In short, the place was pretty much empty. Only a few boys, here and there filled up the wooden seats that lined to room but other than the stray kid here and there, the place was relatively vacant.

"Where the hell is everybody?" Charlie demanded glancing around the room in slight shock.

"They must of have left early," Neil observed. "But…I didn't know so many people would be gone…"

"Reckon they knew about the storm?" Knox asked.

"Doubt it," Meeks said, "I mean, we only knew yesterday."

"It's just that many rich jerks who can convince their parents to get them out early," Charlie decided bitterly.

Todd glanced around the room along with the rest and smiled slightly, the school seemed so much less threatening when there weren't so many people around. It was slightly relieving. He'd actually felt relatively happier that morning and though he had an idea of why it was, he'd decided not to confront it at the moment.

Todd looked up and noticed Neil watching him quizzically. Neil looked on the verge of speaking but something seemed to stop him and instead he looked up and said, "Hey, look at that!"

The boys followed his gaze and saw that Mr. Keating was standing at the podium at the front f the Hall smiling at the few occupants of the room.

"H-hey!" Charlie chuckled triumphantly, "What do you know! Figures Nolan would bail before the going got tough."

"Hey, if Keating's in charge, I wouldn't complain," Knox pointed out.

"Let's get a seat," Meeks suggested and the boys all shuffled into a pew and waited patiently for their teacher to speak.

Keating called the boys to attention before saying,

"Boys, I don't really know how to tell you this without evoking some sort of disappointment but because of Mothers Natures often violent unpredictability, the roads have been deemed unsafe for travel and I'm afraid that none of you are allowed to leave for Thanksgiving," Keating said heavily.

The few people in the room let out the assumed groans that followed a statement such as the one that had been made.

"I know, I know," Keating said over the protest. "But that doesn't mean we can't have Thanksgiving here, we have to make the best of what we have. Every one of you in this room is talented and resourceful so instead of complaining, we're going to put our heads together and we'll have our own Thanksgiving right here. Now," he said snapping into a businesslike tone, "If anyone has any suggestions please feel free to come to my room."

With that, the boys were dismissed and shuffled back out of the Hall.

Neil was the first to speak, "So what do you guy's think?"

"About what?" Knox asked. "Keating's idea?"

"I think it's preposterous," Cameron griped. "In order to have thanksgiving we need a meal and last I checked, the chefs were dismissed yesterday."

"I think he wants us to cook ourselves Cameron," Meeks pointed out with an eye roll.

"Yeah, really, isn't that the point of Thanksgiving, coming together and working with one another?" Neil pointed out.

"Yes, but…"

"Well, then I guess we're doing that," Neil said cheerily, breaking into a run.

"Neil where are you going?" Todd asked, jogging behind his friend.

"To Keating's c'mon!" Neil called after the group, who willingly (with the exception of Cameron) followed.

The boys ran all the way to Keating's room before coming to a halt and ducking inside.

Mr. Keating was at his desk and he looked up, saw the boys and broke out into a smile. "I thought I'd see you boys here…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: So, um, is loving the fact that people actually want me to continue this. The real goal is to finish this by the end of November but I might try to finish it by Thanksgiving...tomorrow...so um, you know I have a day to write oh, ya know, three to four chapters. I'm gonna try. **

**Also, reading back, I noticed that I have a bit of editing I should do. Thanks Cloudy...sorry about "Pitt's". **

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**Chapter Four

It could be safety said that none of the Poets had spent an expansive amount of time in the Welton kitchens. It wasn't exactly odd as none of them really had a reason to be down there in the first place and, if one was speaking of Cameron, it was against the rules for students to be down there anyway. Still, this wasn't to say that the Poets had never been in the kitchen, indeed, Charlie made a trip two or three times a week to nick a little something on the side. But these trips were always brief, a little in and out that required the stealth and cunning that only Charlie Dalton possessed. But stealing was an entirely different matter from cooking.

So, as the Poets lined up side-to-side in the kitchen, aprons around their waists, all of them were feeling a sense of surprise, as this was something they had never expected to do. As if the situation of them cooking a meal wasn't strange enough, who stood before them was a whole new sense of shock to overcome.

Standing before the Poets was none other than Gerard Pitts. Clad in a large white chefs hat and a matching apron that he had mysteriously acquired. Pitts paced before them, scowling shrewdly at the lot much like a military officer inspecting his team. It was clear that Pitts had a mission. His weapons: A set of cooking tools deemed fit for a boarding school kitchen. His team: A bunch of ragtag Poets, none of whom had ever made something as simple as cornflakes. His goal: to make the best Thanksgiving dinner Welton had ever seen.

"All right maggots," Pitts barked. "We have exactly eight hours to prepare a Thanksgiving meal. That's going to require 100% effort on your part—"

"What about your part?" Cameron demanded loudly.

"Silence, Maggot!" Pitts snapped.

Cameron scowled, affronted, "What did you just call me?" he demanded.

"I called you "Maggot", Maggot," Pitts replied sharply, scowling darkly at the sniveling ginge.

Todd trembled slightly at Pitt's newly acclaimed venomous air. Neil noticed this immediately and jumped in, not only because of Todd but because Pitts's Robert E. Lee demeanor was working on his last nerve. Anyway, _he _was the actor around this place.

"Pittsie, drop the act and tell us what you need us to do," Neil said, his voice tired.

Pitts frowned, "But…but…it's fun!" he whined.

"Yeah, well you said yourself, we only have eight hours to get this show on the rode," Knox pointed out wisely.

As soon as time came into play, Pitts snapped back to attention and divide up jobs to the Poets.

"Ok," he said in a businesslike manner before Meeks. "You're in charge of the green bean casserole. Here's the recipe." Pitts held up a faded index card with the recipe written upon it.

"Fried onions…green beans…soup…Pitt's I have no idea how to cook a green bean casserole!" Meeks protested. "Can't I be in charge of the oven temperatures or something? I'm better at pushing buttons…"

"Yes you are," Charlie agreed with a sly giggle.

Meeks glared at Charlie before turning back to Pitts and snatching the card from his hands, "I'll make the casserole," he agreed grudgingly and stomping off.

Pitts went to Todd next, "Ok, Todd, you get to make the cranberry sauce."

"But—but isn't that just opening a can?" Todd asked tentatively. "That doesn't seem like enough…"

"Well, you see I couldn't find a can-opener," Pitts informed him pressing a can of canned cranberries in his palm. "So that's why it might take to awhile."

"But…"

"Thanks Todd," Pitts said and walked off leaving Todd to stare blankly at the cranberries in his hand.

"Ok, Knox you can—Neil what?"

Pitts stared at Neil who was shaking his head. Neil pulled Pitts over, "Pitts, I suggest you don't give Knox anything that requires, heat, sharp objects or anything he could severely injure himself with."

Pitts looked over at Knox, who was trying to open the refrigerator. The door flew open and smacked him in the head causing Charlie to laugh and Knox to topple over onto the floor.

"Oh…good point…I'm going to have to think about him," Pitts said. "Anyway Neil, you're in charge of the pumpkin pie," Pitts added.

"But doesn't that require canned pumpkin?" Neil asked remembering Todd's dilemma.

"Yup," Pitts nodded, "And crust and sugar and some other things. It's all on here," he said handing Neil a recipe.

"Yeah, Pitts but the pumpkin is _canned_." Neil pointed out.

"Well, Neil I'm so sorry that we can't have _fresh pumpkin_ for your liking," Pitts snapped. "Unless you want to go dig around for one in the snow I suggest you put up with it."

"No—Pitts…" Neil objected, but Pitts had already moved on.

"I'll make the cocktails!" Charlie volunteered, dashing to the fridge and raiding it for anything he could find to make "Bloody Charlie's" which were essentially Bloody Mary's, but with Charlie's name replacing Mary's.

"No!" Pitts and Neil said at the same time.

"Charlie your in charge of the stuffing," Pitt's told him.

"Can I put vodka in the stuffing?" Charlie asked.

"No."

"Ambrosia?"

"No."

"Wine?"

"No."

"Bourbon?"

"No."

"Whisk—?"

"_Dammit Charlie, NO ALCOHOL_!"

"_Fine!"_

Once he was assured Charlie wasn't going to experiment with the stuffing, (But here, look, Jack Daniels no right on the recipe card!" "Charlie you wrote that in!") Pitts moved on to Cameron.

"Ok, you get to make the mashed potatoes," Pitts informed him with a smile.

"I guess that's not so bad," Cameron agreed surprisingly. "All I have to do it put them in a pot and mash them."

"That's not all," Pitts said, shocked that someone would think the art of mashed potatoes was so simple. "You have to wash and peel them first and add cream and butter."

"But that's so much _woooork_," Cameron whined. "How many potatoes do I have to peel?"

"Well there's this here—" Pitts said taking out a basket of about a two-dozen potatoes and plopping them on the counter.

"That's so many!"

"—But that's just for us, then there's Keating's serving," Pitts explained pulling out four more baskets.

Cameron's jaw dropped for a moment before he turned to Pitts to object but all he got was the peeling shoved in his hands.

"Happy peeling!" Pitts wished him before leaving.

"As for me," he said to himself. "I get the Mama Bird…"

Pitts pulled the turkey out from the sink where it had been left to thaw. He was about to dive in when Knox darted over to him.

"Hey, hey Pitts I didn't get a job!" he said.

"Oh…right…" Pitts realized. "Um…Knox you get a special job…"

Knox's face lit up, "I do? What?"

"You get to, uhhhm, push the buttons on the oven!"

Knox, in short, was ecstatic but didn't get to express his delight verbally as Meeks shouted, "HEY! I WANTED THAT JOB!"

"Honey, the spots always open over here in Charlieville," Charlie reminded him, giving him a raunchy wink.

It could safely bee assumed that if things continued as they were; they were going to get very interesting very quickly…


End file.
